The Haunting
by ekc293
Summary: In a hypothetical future, Rick realizes that it's not the ghosts that choose to stick around. It's the people left behind who can't bear to let them go. Caskett, family!fic. Warning: Terribly sad, character death. Just… give it a shot. Now complete.
1. Prologue

Hey everyone! This is going to surprise you... maybe. THIS IS GOING TO BE MORE THAN ONE CHAPTER. I have 5 more written already, and there will be at least 3 more after that.  
>Isn't that exciting!<br>Maybe not once you realize what it's about.

Warning: I have cried at least once writing every single chapter. Maybe I'm just too emotionally invested in these characters.  
>It's not the most <em>original<em> idea... but I'm actually really proud of what I have so far, which, if you've read any of my other stuff, you know rarely ever happens.

Now... if you're still interested... read on.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Castle. If you recognize it, it's not mine.

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><p>Prologue<p>

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><p>Rick Castle had always believed in ghosts.<p>

As a young child, they had scared him to pieces. He was terrified of the evil spirits and what they could do to him. His underdeveloped mind had still registered that not every ghost was Casper. More often than not they were Fatso, Stinky, and Stretch, intent on scaring him just for fun, seeing how high he could jump when they jumped out from behind the swings at the park or behind the coats in the hall closet.

As a teenager, they fascinated him. A spirit always had a story. Nobody who died in their sleep came back to haunt the living. No, their deaths were tragic. A soldier accidentally killed in war by his best friend the day before the official ceasefire. An enemy spy hung in the basement of an old bar, his body hidden in the walls and never spoken of again, as if he never existed. The victims of jilted lovers, jealous siblings and experiments that went horribly wrong were the ones who never seemed to be able to let their lives go. Rick was convinced that ghosts only haunted the living because they had stories they needed to share with those who had been lucky enough to keep on living.

It wasn't until recently that Rick Castle realized that sometimes it's not the ghosts that choose to stick around. In fact, it's the people who haven't learned to let them go yet.

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Rick?"

Lifting his gaze up from the floor, Rick looked up from where he was seated in his desk chair and caught the sight of his favorite pair of green eyes, embedded in the face of his favorite detective, who was currently sitting on the edge of his desk in front of him.

He sighed, "I'm sure, Kate."

Her brow crumpled as she looked down at him from her perch, clearly not liking his answer.

"But Rick…" she whispered.

Rick cut her off, shaking his head slightly but refusing to break eye contact.

"There's no other option."

Kate closed her eyes and bowed her head, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she let out a long breath.

He ached to reach out and touch her. To brush her hair over her shoulder the way he had done so many other times in the past.

"Rick –"

"Kate, you're not going to change my mind."

Kate lifted her gaze back up to meet his, her green meeting his blue (which, if he was being truthful, was more of a slate gray these days). He held her somber gaze with his own determined one.

He wasn't going to back down from this. He had made his decision. Almost a year ago, in fact.

It had been a terrible year.

Surely she could respect that.

"Daddy?"

Snapping his gaze away from the woman in front of him, he locked eyes with the person who had called his name.

Standing at the entrance to his office was Nicholas Beckett Castle, dressed in his Star Wars pajamas (a gift from his older sister), holding the old teddy bear that Kate had bought for him as soon as she had found out she was pregnant with him in one of his small hands. Nicholas tilted his head to the side, looking like he had just woken up, his familiar hazel eyes looking at him in confusion.

"Yeah, buddy?" he whispered, hoping his voice sounded even, knowing that even his nearly 5 year old son had inherited his mother's attention to detail and would be able to tell that something was wrong.

"Who are you talking to, Daddy?" He said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

Rick sighed and held his arms out towards his son. Nicholas immediately took the invitation, and shuffled quickly over towards his father. As soon as he could, Rick lifted Nicholas up into his lap, wrapping him in his arms. Nicholas quickly dropped his head against his Rick's chest, bringing the teddy bear between them and hugging it tightly. Rick brought his hand up and ran his fingers softly through his Nicholas's dirty blonde hair, the same color Rick's had been as a child, the action calming the both of them.

He felt Nicholas start to relax in his arms. Clearly the few hours of sleep he had gotten before Rick had woken him were not sufficient to reenergize the small child.

"Come on, Nick," he said affectionately, gathering up his son in his arms and standing up himself. "Let's get you back to bed. Aunt Lanie's got a lot of stuff planned for you tomorrow."

Nick shifted slightly in Rick's arms, nestling closer against his neck, his arms gripping his shirt tightly.

"Can I stay down here tonight, Daddy?" he mumbled, his voice laced with exhaustion, "It's cold upstairs."

Rick smiled softly against his son's head, knowing what a sorry excuse that was. He shook his head slightly and pressed a gentle kiss against his soft hair. "Alright… but only because we both have to get up early in the morning."

Rick's reasoning fell on deaf ears, though. He could tell by his son's breathing that he was already asleep against his chest.

Rick looked back towards the spot on his desk where Kate had just been on his desk, wanting to tell her that he loved her, but she was gone.

_Gone._

He thought that it would get easier with time. That he would learn to deal with the gaping hole in his chest and the constant ache that had made its home there in the empty space.

But it hadn't gotten easier. He didn't feel any better.

Because no matter what he did she was still gone.

She had been for nearly a year.

She was now just a memory that was always at the forefront of his mind.

An illusion of his subconscious.

His favorite ghost.

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><p>Would it make you feel better if I told you the ending is hopeful?<br>I'd love to know what you think.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

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><p>The next morning, Rick awoke to the little streams of light sneaking into the bedroom through the folds of his curtains. Lying on his back, Rick blinked himself into awareness, trying to wake up without actually moving.<p>

When he felt adequately aware, he rolled over onto his side, turning to face the right side of the bed.

It happened every morning. He rolled over, looking at the right side of the bed and was always confronted by the harsh reality that she wasn't there. It was as if his subconscious thought that the Kate in his dreams (because he dreamed about her every night) would miraculously appear on the right side of the bed every morning, giving him her good morning smile and kissing him softly just like she used to.

When they had first gotten together, they had fought over who got which side of the bed. Both of them (go figure) tended to sleep on the right side. Obviously, Kate won that battle, and the right side of the bed officially became her side. But in all honesty, Rick didn't mind nearly as much as he let on because what he learned after their first night together made Rick realize that it didn't matter what side of the bed he was on.

Katherine Beckett, the kick-ass, hardworking, NYPD Detective, who twisted his ear and pushed him around and should've trademarked her signature eye-roll, was a cuddler. No matter what side of the bed they went to sleep on she still gravitated towards him during the middle of the night. He often woke up with her pressed against his side, or with her head on his chest.

For that, he would settle for the left side of the bed.

So every morning, he rolled over and looked for the love of his life. And every morning, the truth hit him like a bullet to the chest.

She wasn't there.

However, this morning there was someone else in bed with him.

He quickly took in the shaggy light brown hair of their son that was still blissfully asleep in the comfort and warmth of his parents' bed. Asleep in the middle, Nicholas had sprawled out on his back, one of his hands resting on the pillow which Rick currently had his head resting against, the other wrapped tightly around the body of his teddy bear that had its own head lying against Kate's pillow.

Everything about the loft, from the kitchen island to Nicholas's room upstairs to his desk to that very pillow on his bed was now a memory of her. Everything reminded him of her. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

He could still smell her in his sheets. Barely, but it was there. And that's what really mattered. It proved that she had there. That he hadn't just made her up. She was real.

He inhaled again. Another ritual: breathe in the air of the loft, the cotton of his sheets, and the shirts that were still hanging up in their closet just like they had been the day she was taken away from them until he could convince himself that her scent, the cherries with a floral hint that took his breath away, still lingered there.

Looking over at the clock and realizing that they still had a few minutes before they had to get up and get started for the day Rick propped his head up on his elbow and watched Nicholas sleep for a moment.

He truly was beautiful. The perfect combination of Rick and Kate. From his dark blonde hair, Rick knew that he was probably going to have a hair color nearly the same shade as him, but with both of his parents having brown hair, he wasn't surprised by this. Rick could already tell that he had inherited the strong Castle jaw, the angles still covered with his baby fat at the moment, but he knew he would grow into it. He had his mother's cheekbones, and his nose, and Kate's beautifully shaped ears. Nicholas had Rick's complexion, but he had gotten the Beckett beauty mark, where Kate had had two, one on her cheek and one under her eye, Nicholas's was located at the juncture between his jaw and his ear. And, just like he had hoped and prayed for since Kate first told him she was pregnant, he had her eyes.

He ran his fingers lightly through Nick's hair, just enough so he would be able to feel the texture of it against his fingertips. He sighed, truly thankful for the beautiful boy who Rick was lucky enough to call his son.

"He's gotten so big."

Rick looked up slowly, his eyes taking in the soft angles of her face and the lines of Kate's nose, her hair fanning out across her pillow.

"Yeah, he has," he whispered.

Kate looked up and met his gaze, giving him the smile he remembered from waking up together all those mornings ago.

"We made a pretty baby," she said, contentedly, reaching out one of her hands and caressing Nicholas's cheek with just the tips of her fingers. Nicholas, aware that something was different, shifted closer towards his mother.

Kate smiled again down at Nicholas, the sight making Rick's heart ache, "Our little Nick."

When Kate was pregnant, every time he talked to their child, he jokingly called him Nikki. She had rolled her eyes at first, claiming that naming their child after her alter ego, one of his characters, was not going to happen. Rick tried to convince her that it was the only thing that was fitting, seeing as this child was one part of her, and one part of him, just like Nikki Heat.

When it came to finding out the sex of the baby, Kate had decided she wanted it to be a surprise. Rick had initially been disappointed because he wanted to start buying as much stuff as he could for their child, but this was Kate's first baby, and Rick had been through this once before, and there was no way he could deny her anything while she looked so beautiful, five months pregnant with _their _child.

They had made a deal. If the baby was a girl (which Rick swore it was going to be) he would get to choose her first name and Kate would choose her middle name. If the baby turned out to be a boy (which Kate had thought he was going to be) she got to choose the first name and Rick got middle name claim.

After a long 14 hour labor for Kate, when the doctor had informed them that they now had a healthy, newborn, son, Kate, looking exhausted yet happy, had smirked at him before grabbing his hand and laughing slightly, tears of joy pouring from her eyes.

When the two of them held him for the first time, Kate had looked at him and just whispered his name.

"Nicholas."

Rick had been surprised, but when she told him that she had ended up liking his reasoning once he explained why he was calling their baby "Nikki", he had been all smiles. He was part her, part him. She liked that fact that Nicholas could be shortened to Nick, which rhymed with Rick. And she had looked up the meaning of his name in a baby book and knew that it was the right choice.

Nicholas: Victory of the people.

She had smiled at him softly.

"After all," she had murmured, "it's our victory that got us to this point."

Rick knew exactly what she was talking about: Solving her mother's case. Knocking down the wall. Finally taking that leap of faith that had led them to exactly where they were supposed to be.

He had kissed her cheek, his smile growing and said he thought it was perfect. Rick decided his middle name would be "Beckett," telling her that he wanted his son to be constantly reminded of how kick-ass his mother was, and how she was the most amazing thing in the world.

Kate had rolled her eyes, but kissed him all the same, right before their friends and family came into the room to congratulate them.

Rick came out of his memory gradually, refocusing on Kate's figure, and the way she had settled her hand next to their son, her eyes fixed lovingly on his face.

Rick swallowed, desperately wishing that this was real. That his subconscious wasn't projecting this onto him as some cruel, sick, joke.

They had shared this morning before. Only a few times though, what with Kate's job and all of the crazy hours. The first time was the very first night they had brought him home. Both of them still couldn't believe that he was really there with them. After such a long wait, they finally got to be with him.

"He looks like you," he heard Kate whisper.

Rick immediately shook his head, his eyes still on her as she lifted her gaze from their little boy up to his eyes, gazing at each other across their pillows once again. His eyes drifted momentarily down to the boy in between them before they moved back up to her.

"On the contrary, my dear, he looks a little more like you every day."

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><p><em>The Haunting, <em>by Anberlin


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>Rick blinked and Kate was gone again. Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat up, trying not to jostle the bed too much. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and padded toward his bathroom. Ignoring his reflection the mirror (he did that quite often nowadays), he relieved himself and washed his hands, splashing some of the cool water up onto his face in an attempt to further wake himself up.<p>

When he felt more awake, Rick quietly made his way back into the bedroom, moving to once again sit down on his side of the bed. Leaning down he placed a quick kiss on the top of Nicholas's head before putting a gentle hand on his stomach, shaking him lightly.

"Hey, little man," he said quietly, "It's time to wake up."

Nicholas groaned slightly before trying to escape from under Rick's hand.

He was definitely not a morning person.

Rick chuckled before reaching his other hand out to grab the boy around the torso, his fingers tickling his sides, "Oh no you don't!" he said, still laughing, "we need to get ready for your big date with Aunt Lanie."

Nicholas squirmed even more under Rick's fingers, his boyish laugh filling the room as he finally woke up. When he looked up at Rick, he smiled, flashing his boyish, toothy grin up at him. Rick smiled back, before running a strong finger down the side of his face.

"G'morning, bub," he said.

"Morning, daddy," Nicholas whispered back.

Rick stood up and stretched dramatically, growling as he did so. Nicholas giggled again.

"You hungry, Nick?" Rick puffed out his stomach and rubbed it, "I know I am."

Nick nodded, sliding over to the edge of the bed, letting his feet dangle over the edge as he braced his hands on the edge of the mattresss.

"Can we have the lions pancakes?" He said, his voice laced with excitement.

"Of course we can!" Rick said, lifting Nicholas off the bed and putting him on the ground. Nick quickly began to shuffle over towards the bathroom.

"Need any help?" Castle asked.

Nicholas shook his head, giving him a baby eye roll (it must be in the Beckett DNA), "No, Daddy. I'm a big boy."

Rick held up his hands in surrender and moved over towards his dresser. "Okay, okay! Go on, big boy!"

Once Nick was in the bathroom, Rick moved over towards his closet, quickly pulling out a pair of dress slacks and throwing them onto the bed. He found the matching suit jacket easily, taking it out before moving over towards his collection of button-ups, finding a red striped oxford and taking it off the hook as well.

He had a meeting with his publishers and his agent today. Hopefully, the last one he'd ever have to subject himself, too.

"Are you sure about this?"

Not even bothering to turn around, contemplating whether or not he should wear a tie, he answered her, "Yes, dear. I'm positive."

He sensed her presence next to him, but still didn't look at her.

"No tie," she whispered by his arm, "I just don't want you to do something you regret."

Rick put the tie he had been holding in his hands back on his tie-rack, before giving her a small smile.

"Stop worrying, I'm sure."

He felt a slight pressure on his bicep, and he knew without looking that she had just leaned her head against his skin.

His fist tightened at his side, knowing that if he were to reach out to her, she would disappear.

It was the cruelest form of masochism. He could see her and talk to her and she could reach out and touch him, but he couldn't reciprocate. She was forever out of reach. Just a shadow of who she used to be.

But he'd take what he would get.

The sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom and a step stool being dragged across the marble floors towards the sink made him shift his attention back towards his son in the adjoining. As he turned his head, he could instantly tell that Kate had disappeared again. He heard the sink turn off and quickly schooled his features, greeting his son with a huge smile as he walked out of bathroom, making his way over towards him.

Rick met him halfway.

"All good?" He said.

Nick nodded, putting his hand over his stomach, "pancake time?"

Rick nodded, placing a gentle hand on Nicholas's back, leading him out into the kitchen.

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><p>As Rick finished off the last of his Lion shaped pancakes, he put all of the dishes into the sink and lifted Nicholas down off the barstool and onto the floor. The two of them walked up the stairs and into Nicholas's room, where they quickly packed a bag of toys he could take to Lanie and Esposito's house (though he knew Esposito was at work today. Lanie, for some reason, was given the day off) and dressed Nick for the day, his jeans and baseball tee perfect for the mild spring day.<p>

They were already halfway down the stairs when they heard a familiar knock on the door. Nicholas quickly ran down the rest of the stairs, Rick calling out to him to be careful as his son rushed towards the door, unable to reach the doorknob but anxious to see Lanie all the same.

It was no secret to everyone in the entire precinct that Lanie was Nicholas's first crush. Whenever Kate would mention they were going somewhere, he would always ask if Aunt Lanie was going to be there.

He heard Kate chuckle behind him.

Rick finally made it to the door, putting his hand on his son's head and maneuvering him away it.

"Hey!" Nicholas complained loudly as he pushed him further away from the door.

Rick chuckled softly and opened the door, after making sure it was indeed Lanie, and greeted her with a large smile.

"Good morning, Doctor Parish!"

Lanie chuckled lightly and opened her mouth to respond but was quickly cut off by a pair of tiny arms weaving themselves around her knees. Lanie smiled down at Nicholas.

"Hey there, Nicholas," she said, her tone soft, quickly moving her gaze back to Rick. She raised an eyebrow, "Wow, Castle. No need to get dressed up for me. You shouldn't have."

Rick quickly looked down, seeing that he was still wearing his batman pajama pants (another present from Alexis) and his undershirt from the night before.

Rick shrugged and gave her a rueful smile, "We just had pancakes, Doctor. Didn't want to dirty myself up before the day even began."

She smirked, "Mhm… I'm sure." He watched as her grin slowly slid off of her face, compassion and concern taking over her features just as he expected them to.

"You okay?" she said quietly, moving her hand down to rest against Nicholas's head, who was still wrapped around her legs, hugging her tightly.

Rick shrugged, "Yeah, I'm doing alright. I just really don't want to go to this meeting this morning."

Lanie narrowed her eyes, her voicing dropping low enough that Nicholas wouldn't be able to hear.

"That's not what I meant."

Of course it wasn't. The good doctor was nearly as good with details as the detectives he surrounded himself with for nearly 10 years. Of course she would notice that his pajama pants were hanging a little lower around his waist and his shirts weren't fitting as tightly as they used to. Of course she could see the circles under his eyes, the increase in the number of wrinkles on his face, the gray hairs that were coming in that had nothing to do with getting older.

Rick smiled.

"Thank you for watching Nicholas on your day off." Rick leaned over and kissed Lanie lightly on the cheek, thanking her for her concern without using words, "Jim's out of town, Alexis just started her new job, and mother's finishing up her show. I really appreciate this."

Lanie sighed, clearly realizing that Rick wasn't going to talk about this. Not now. Not in front of his son.

"Anytime," she said sincerely, then her tone transformed into something much more playful, clearly addressing his son rather than him, "Anything for my favorite nephew!"

While she was talking to him, Rick picked up the small back pack full of toys and kneeled down on the floor. Reaching out, he gently touched Nicholas's back with his fingers. The boy took the hint and unwrapped his arms from Lanie's legs, turning around to look at Rick, his excitement clear on his face.

Rick held up the back pack and Nicholas spun around, allowing Rick to slip it onto his shoulders. Nick turned back around and immediately wrapped his arms tightly around Rick's neck.

"I love you, Daddy," he said, his muffled by the skin of his neck.

"I love you too, Nick. More than anything," Rick whispered back. "Be good for Aunt Lanie, okay? I'll be over to pick you up later tonight."

"Promise?"

Rick noticed that he had started asking this after Kate had died. Probably because he had been in this situation before. Kate had knelt on the floor just like Rick was doing now and held Nicholas in her arms, promising that she would be home in time to read him a bedtime story with Rick.

But then she never came home.

Not even 5 years old and already so perceptive.

Rick deflected the question as he always did, knowing that he couldn't safely promise that he would come home, and not wanting to lie to his son after all they'd been through.

"I'll be careful if you be careful, okay?"

Expecting this answer, Nicholas nodded into Rick's neck and pulled away slightly, kissing his dad on the cheek before letting go completely and grabbing Lanie's hand, telling her he was ready to go.

Rick rocked back on his heels and smiled at her, though it was obviously pained, "Thanks again."

Lanie nodded and took a deep breath, her voice soft, "Of course, Rick. Good luck at your meeting today."

Rick nodded back in acknowledgement and stood up as Lanie and Nicholas walked towards the elevator, chatting excitedly about what they were going to do for the day.

He felt rather than saw her wrap an arm around his waist.

"He's a good boy," she whispered, "he'll be alright."

He didn't reply.

Of course Nick would be alright. He was surrounded with a family that loved him and cared about him ever since the day he was born. They had chosen to protect him with everything they had after that horrible day nearly a year ago. Eventually he would grow up and learn what really happened to his mother, and while it would always be a part of him, Rick wasn't going to let him go down the rabbit hole that Kate had when her mother had been killed.

No, Nick would be fine.

It was himself he was worried about.

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><p><em>From Where You Are, <em>by Lifehouse


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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><p>Rick quickly shut the door before him and began to make his way back into the kitchen. He speedily scrubbed the dishes to get off any of the caked on syrup left over from their pancake safari and placed all of their dirty dishes in the dishwasher.<p>

Drying his hands off on one of the towels hanging off the stove, he quickly walked back through his office into his bedroom, stripping off his clothes and immediately heading towards the bathroom, intent of taking a quick shower.

After rinsing off the stray bits of batter that had somehow ended up on his arms from breakfast that morning and running his hand through his hair a few times, Rick quickly shut off the hot water, allowing the droplets to run off of his body, shaking his head to get the excess water out of his hair before wrapping a towel around his waist and moving into his bedroom, stop at his sink only to brush his teeth and put on some deodorant.

He grabbed a pair of socks, a pair of underwear, and an undershirt from his dresser and moved back towards the bed where he had laid out his clothes earlier that morning. Slipping off his towel, he got dressed on autopilot, pulling his boxers up around his waist and drawing his white t-shirt over his head. Rick picked his shirt up off the bed, and slid it over his shoulders, buttoning the cuffs and the buttons up his chest with nimble fingers. He pulled his slacks up over his legs, buttoning them, slipping the tails of his shirt underneath his waistband before slipping a belt through the belt loops. He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling on a pair of black socks before moving swiftly over to his closet, grabbing a pair of black dress shoes and sliding them onto his feet, tying the laces tightly, the old fundamentals making a strong appearance since Nicholas told him he wanted to tie his own shoes. He closed the closet door behind him and moved back over towards his dresser.

On top, he had all of his most important possessions that he needed to use every day: His hair brush, his special styling cream, and of course his cologne. He styled his hair with practiced ease in front of his mirror, before splashing on just a dash of his cologne.

Towards the middle of the dresser, were pictures in frames and other momentos. Kate's jewelry box sat in the middle, her necklace and her father's watch safely inside their own drawer.

There was a dish next to it that held Rick's important accessories: the watch that Kate had given him as a gift that had made him tear up, the macaroni necklace Nicholas made him at pre-school, the bracelet of clay beads that Alexis had made him all those years ago for father's day, and, of course, his wedding band.

He shot a short glance back at Kate's jewelry box, knowing that the top portion of the mahogany box had only two things nestled inside of it: her own engagement ring, and the wedding band that matched the one in his dish.

Taking a deep breath, he slid the watch that had been Kate's wedding present to him on over his wrist, closing the clasp gently and adjusting it so the watch face gleamed up at him. Then with his right hand, he reached into the shallow dish and fished out the white gold band that always seemed to sink to the bottom.

He looked at the ring. He could still remember everything about their wedding day. Just holding the ring, he remembered the overwhelming sense of joy he had felt when she slid the band onto his finger for the first time. His had been shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the ring as he went to slide it on hers. She had laughed at him, before giving him a smile that took his breath away.

She had looked so beautiful in her white dress. He had to seriously fight the urge to run down the aisle towards her as she appeared at the end on her father's arm, her own happiness palpable as she smiled at him. He swore time had stopped.

"You don't have to keep wearing it, you know."

Removing his gaze from the band in his hand, his eyes sought out hers in the reflection of the mirror. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands holding each other in her lap, looking at him with sincere eyes.

Rick couldn't imagine not wearing his wedding band. When he had married her, he had promised that he would never take that ring off, no matter what they went through. He loved her more than he had ever loved any other woman in the world. He had given her his heart and didn't ever want it back. Rick had given her the absolute best parts of himself, just as she had given him everything she had, and Rick was never going to forget that.

He didn't want anyone else. He swore to himself that he wasn't going to do to Nicholas what he had tried so desperately to achieve with Alexis: find someone who could be a mother and jump into a relationship with her. No, that wasn't fair. To anyone. Rick knew the minute he married Kate that no one would ever come after her. He made a promise to himself that Kate was going to be his last everything.

Even if his last everything came 30 years earlier than he had expected, he didn't intend to break that promise.

Rick didn't want women throwing themselves at him. He didn't want any other woman to ever think they had the chance to stake a claim in his life, his bed, or, heaven forbid, his heart.

Nicholas didn't need another mom in his life. He had already had one. The best one in the whole world. Rick couldn't ever try to replace her. And luckily for Nicholas, he had other incredible women in his life to teach him what he needed to know. Of course it wasn't the same thing, but it was something.

Nicholas had his grandmother Martha to teach him how to have fun and respect women. He had his big sister Alexis to teach him how to be kind and the merits of studying hard. He had Aunt Lanie to teach him how to be a good listener and an even better friend. He had Aunt Jenny to teach him to be graceful and patient. He even had Gates (who had a particular fondness of the green-eyed boy) to teach him how to be strong and brave.

And that's not even mentioning the men that loved Nicholas as well. He had Uncle Javier, who would undoubtedly try to teach him how to pick up girls, but would also teach him what it means to be a fighter. Uncle Kevin would teach him what loyalty means and Grandpa Jim would teach him that there's always light at the end of the tunnel, there's always room to forgive.

Rick just had to teach him everything else.

Rick knew that every single one of them would always be there for his son whenever he needed them.

No, he didn't need anyone else in their lives. They would be fine just the way they were.

Wearing the ring made it easier.

Less heartache for everyone involved.

"Of course I do," he whispered, catching her eyes in the reflection.

He slipped his ring onto his finger.

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><p>"What do you mean you don't want to have a launch party?" Gina and Paula practically yelled simultaneously at him in one of the large conference rooms at Black Pawn.<p>

Rick sat there at the table, his expression blank while the women paced in front of him on the opposite side of the table.

Paula spoke first, sighing as if she was talking to a child, "Rick, launch parties are essential in selling your books."

Gina chimed in, "And _Packing Heat_ has sold more books than any of your previous novels ever."

_Because the inspiration died._

Gina didn't actually say it, but everyone in the room heard it loud and clear.

Rick still didn't respond.

Paula sighed again, "Rick… I know it's been a rough couple of months…"

The understatement of the century if everyone in the room was being honest.

"… but think of your career."

Rick took a deep breath after a moment of silence, knowing that what he was about to say next would change everything.

"I think it's time for me to retire."

The silence that fell across the room was deafening.

Finally, Gina broke it.

"Oh my god," she muttered, "You can't be serious about this."

He nodded once, "I am."

Paula broke in, "Ricky come on, be rational…"

With a speed Rick didn't know existed, he stood up from his spot at the table, slamming his hands on the surface in front of him.

"I've thought this through, Paula. God Paula, I've thought through every aspect of this decision."

Gina interrupted, "Rick, you're still under contract for two more Nikki Heat novels."

Rick clenched his jaw, "I don't care."

"Richard," Gina bristled, "you can't just…"

"I can't just what?" Rick said, throwing his hands up in the air, startling the two women on the other side of the room. "Rip up my contract, black list me, sue me. I don't care. You can do all of those things. But you know what I can't do? I can't write novels about her anymore. I can't… sit there at my desk and imagine the things Nikki would say and what she would do because Nikki Heat is gone. Without Kate…" He took a deep breath, dropping his gaze back towards the table, "I can't do it," he muttered, "I just can't do it…"

There was a long moment where Gina and Paula did nothing but look at the man in front of them, his shoulders slumped forward, hands braced tightly against the table. The two of them hadn't seen much of Rick since the accident, but they were entirely unprepared for how he looked now. His clothes fit looser than they normally did, his face thinner, his cheekbones protruding out of his skin. His eyes lacked the spark that had always been there before. He looked exhausted. He looked haunted.

He looked like the love of his life, a woman who he had written 300 page love letters to, who had made him grow up when everyone else had given up on him, who had given him a new family, a son, a _chance_, was taken from him far too soon.

Paula took a deep breath, "okay," she whispered. Rick's head snapped up and looked at her.

"Okay," she said again, her voice a little stronger, nodding her head, "if you're done, we're done. I'll stick around to release some statements and get everything sorted out with the press, and then our contract will be terminated."

Gina wasn't willing to let it go so easily. "Richard Castle, you are bound by law to write two more novels."

Rick shook his head from side to side.

Gina continued, "You signed a legally binding contract last year stating that you would…"

Paula cut in, her voice sharp, but tired, "Gina, stop being a bitch."

Gina bristled, her voice still getting louder, "I'm not being a _bitch_, I'm doing my job, something you clearly aren't doing anymore."

"No," Paula said fiercely, her voice much more threatening, "I'm making my client happy and giving him what he wants, which is _exactly _what my job is. If you would stop letting your personal issues with your client get in the way of how you do _your_ job, maybe you would actually be able to do it."

Rick watched Gina and Paula glare at each other for a minute before Gina bit the inside of her cheek, breaking eye contact and looking at him.

Gina spoke slowly, her voice dropping low, giving him one more chance to back out, "If I call the lawyers up here Richard, there's no going back. Your writing career… is over."

Rick dropped back into his seat and pulled a pen out of his pocket with a flourish, a small smile forming on his lips.

"Where do I sign?"

* * *

><p><em>Anniversary, <em>by Chase Coy

* * *

><p>(did you guys really think I would have him kill himself? That never even crossed my mind...)<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>Four hours later Rick walked out of Black Pawn's building for hopefully the last time ever, a small smile on his face at the thought. Black Pawn had not been happy about letting him go, but eventually they came to an agreement that left everyone happy. He had stopped Paula on the way out, telling her just how thankful he was for her unending support, and he could've sworn he saw her tear up.<p>

A quick glance at his wrist confirmed his thought that he still had a few hours to spare before he was supposed to pick up Nicholas from Lanie's. Looking around, he realized that it was a relatively nice day, the sun shining brightly on the sidewalks, the air refreshingly cool around him.

Knowing there was a market a few blocks away, Rick decided it would be a lovely day for a walk. As he quickly turned, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to move along the sidewalk,

He felt a familiar hand curl around his, slender fingers wrapping around his own. He fought the urge to squeeze back, knowing that she would disappear.

"So," Kate said, staring straight in front of her, "The Great Richard Castle, retired before 50. Who would've thought?"

He looked down at her, knowing that he would see her looking back at him. He smiled as her eyes met his, knowing she was looking for some sort of doubt.

"I know I made the right decision."

Kate's brow furrowed at his smile, leaning a little closer to him to avoid the crowd of people brushing past her on her side.

"But you love writing, and publishing books, and all of your fans."

_But I love you more_.

He sighed, "Kate… this is what I want… No, this is what I _need_ Kate."

"I just hate to think that this is all because of me. I shouldn't make you stop doing the things you love."

That's not what she wanted to say and he knew it. But still, even now, she was trying to protect him.

_My death has changed you so much._

He stopped walking, but she kept on moving. Her hand slipping from his as she walked confidently through the streets of New York, continuing on the path he had set for them. He watched her for a moment, his heart clenching, before he jogged back up to her, brushing past strangers without even apologizing. Once he fell into step next to her, he shoved his hands back into his pockets, a last ditch effort to not reach out and touch her.

They walked in silence for a moment until he saw a man selling flowers up ahead on the corner. He rushed forward, looking at them with excitement, and turning back towards Kate, who just smiled at him.

The man on the street saw his excitement and immediately tried to make a sale, pulling out his finest flowers from the buckets on the ground, creating a custom bouquet just for him.

He felt Kate move to stand at his side. Rick looked down at her quickly, his eyes shining, before returning his gaze to the bouquet in front of him.

He felt his smile fall from his face.

The bouquet itself was beautiful. The tulips were fresh and vibrant paired with the lilies and roses that smelled lovely.

Lilies were Kate's favorite flowers.

They had put lilies on her casket.

Rick shuddered, his mind reeling in the sea of his memories. He could remember that day as if it were yesterday.

Kate had left the loft that morning with the promise that she would be home in time to tuck Nicholas into bed that night. She kissed her boys goodbye, Rick making Kate promise she'd call on the way home so he could start making her something to eat. The cruiser had been in the shop, so she had to take the subway into work. She grabbed her gun and her badge, and headed off towards the elevator. As the doors were closing, she turned around and blew her two boys standing in the doorway to their home a kiss big enough for the two of them.

That was the last time they'd seen her alive.

At around 7 that night, Kate had called Rick, letting him know that she was on her way home. He thanked her, told her he loved her, and then hung up the phone, starting to prepare dinner.

When she wasn't home by 7:45, Rick had begun to worry.

By 8:15, he had tried calling her six times.

And when he opened the door at 9, a cop standing on the other side of his door, he knew.

Rick still didn't know what happened exactly. The cop had tried to explain it to him, but he had only caught bits and pieces of it. _Walking home… on the sidewalk… car… came out of nowhere… not her fault… drugs… alcohol… caught the kid… didn't feel a thing._

Perhaps if she had gotten killed on the job, he would've been able to handle it better. He had prepared himself for that. He knew going into a relationship with her that there was a very real chance that she wouldn't make it home every night. That murderers don't care if you are engaged or have a family to go home to that night. People who kill people don't care if you promised your son you would be home in time for a bedtime story.

He always thought she would take a bullet. He nearly lost her once that way already.

Never in his worst nightmares did he think it would be because of a drugged up kid who lost control of his car while running from some beat cops because he got scared while she was walking home from work.

It was all so pointless.

"Two days," he heard her whisper, knowing where his mind had travelled.

He swallowed, biting the inside of his lip before nodding sadly.

"Two days," he confirmed.

The man looked at Rick, confusion all over his features, wondering why the man dressed in a nice suit was mumbling something about two days to no one but the air.

Rick quickly realized that the man was still looking at him expectantly, and nodded.

"Thank you," Rick said, "but I have to go."

Rick clenched his hands into fists, in his jacket pocket as he began to walk away, leaving the man and his flowers behind as he started walking towards Lanie's street.

Three hundred and sixty-three days ago, Rick had to tell his 4 year old son that Mommy, the dragon slayer, who fought hard every day so that he could be safe and happy, wasn't ever coming home again.

Three hundred and sixty-three days ago, Rick's world had fallen apart at the seams.

Three hundred and sixty-three days ago, Rick stopped writing.

He still had yet to put fresh flowers back in the loft.

* * *

><p>As he lay in bed later that night after he had tucked Nicholas into bed and settled down into his sheets, he wasn't surprised to see her lying on her side facing towards him, her fingers tracing patterns over the fabric of their sheets.<p>

This had happened on multiple occasions as well.

He often pictured her lying next to him, just content to fall asleep with the image of her by his side.

He took in the way her dark hair fanned out over her pillow. He memorized the lines of her neck, the way they gracefully curved into her strong shoulders. He took in the silhouette of her side, the bow of her hips underneath their sheets.

She looked like an angel.

Her lips were full and pink. Her nose cast a small shadow across her face from the night light that was creeping in through the window. She was staring at him thoughtfully, her green eyes focused on nothing other than him.

"I wish I could touch you," he said finally, his words nothing more than a breath across the pillow. Rick's own fingers moved towards her without his control. He gently placed his hand on her pillow, his fingertips just a hair away from her face, as close as he could be without physically touching her.

There, but not actually there.

Real, but not entirely real.

Kate just gave him a sad smile.

* * *

><p><em>My Immortal, <em>by Evanescence

* * *

><p>(As the number of reviews goes down per chapter... I wonder if I just killed you all, you're crying to much to see the screen, or you really don't like me.<br>All of those options make me inexplicably sad.  
>Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, though.<br>I know this isn't the easiest thing to read, so I really really appreciate it.  
>Also, warning: Chapter 6 is the worst.)<p> 


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>When Rick woke up the next morning, Kate wasn't there. He sighed, breathing in deeply before lifting himself out of bed to walk into the bathroom.<p>

After going through his relatively short morning routine, he ran a hand through his hair, moving out of the bathroom and heading out through his office to go wake up Nicholas. It was still relatively early, so he wasn't surprised that he would still be asleep.

As soon as he stepped out of his office, however, he stopped short, confronted by a much different sight.

Oh, he had invited Alexis over this morning, hadn't he?

Rick watched from the shadows as his eldest child, already an adult herself, interacted with his youngest.

Their relationship had always been one of the highlights of his life. When Kate had gotten pregnant, Alexis was already in her final year at university. Kate had been so worried about how Alexis would react to the news of getting a little sibling so late in life. Rick had told her not to worry, and he had been right.

Alexis had been ecstatic when she heard about her little sibling. It threw her off at the beginning, clearly not expecting it, but soon she was hugging Kate and congratulating the two of them and telling Rick that he was only 15 years late on getting her a little sibling.

The first time Alexis had held Nicholas in the hospital, she had been sitting by Kate's side on the hospital bed, all four of them crammed on there when Nicholas was only hours old. Alexis cried. She loved him just as much as he and Kate did.

Ryan had captured the moment on his camera and had given the picture to Kate in a frame as a present when she returned from maternity leave so she could put it on her desk.

It was currently on Rick's desk in his office.

Their family.

"Lexi?" he heard Nicholas ask, "Why does Daddy talk to himself?"

Alexis laughed, her tone teasing, "Oh, Nick. Daddy's just a weirdo like that." Alexis continued to move around the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for what looked like waffles.

He saw Nicholas shake his head, "Uh-uh… it sounds… it sounds like he talking to Mommy. He says Mommy's name a lot."

Alexis froze momentarily before turning slowly and looking at her younger brother with a tender expression on her face before turning back around and continuing to make breakfast.

"Some… Sometimes I talks to Mommy, too." Nick continued, following Alexis's every move around the kitchen.

"You do?" she said, her voice surprisingly quieter, "what do you talk to her about?"

Nicholas shrugged, and looked down at the table, "stuff. I t… tell her when Daddy does something he's not supposed to do. Or when you come home from college. I tell her that I love her and… and that I miss her… Do you think she can hear me, Lexi?"

Alexis took an unsteady breath, "Yeah, Nick," she gave him a small smile, "I think she can."

Nick smiled up at her before looking back down at the table.

"Hey, Nick? Why don't you run upstairs and get one of your books before Daddy gets up and breakfast is ready?"

Rick heard a mumbled "okay, Lexi" before he heard Nick's shuffling footsteps move towards the staircase.

Following orders. He must have gotten that from his mother.

As he heard his son's footsteps echo up the stairs, he came out of the shadows and moved over into the kitchen.

Alexis was leaning thoughtfully against the counter.

"Hey," he whispered, "you okay?"

Alexis sniffed once and then nodded, pushing herself off the counter and into her father's arms.

"Yeah… I'm fine."

She stayed wrapped up in his arms in silence for a moment before they heard Nicholas's feet running down the stairs.

"Lexi! Lexi!" he called out to her, something that sounded like paper rustling in his wake, "I found –"

Nicholas turned the corner and saw Rick and Alexis hugging in the kitchen. He froze momentarily before dropping his coloring book and crayons to the floor (so that's what the paper was), a huge smile overtaking his face.

Another thing he had gotten from Kate: his million dollar smile.

"Daddy!" Nicholas screamed, running towards the two of them, "Daddy, you're awake!"

Rick let go of Alexis just in time to pick up Nicholas before he ran right into his legs.

"Good morning, buddy!" he said, kissing his cheek loudly, "how long have you been up?"

Nick wrapped his arms around Rick's neck, shrugging. "Not too long. Lexi came and woke me up." Suddenly, Nicholas pulled back and frowned at his father.

Rick was confused, "What?"

The crease between Nicholas's brow became more prominent (another Beckett trait), "Me and Lexi were going to bring you breakfast in bed. You can't be awake."

Alexis laughed, and Rick realized that she had pulled out the waffle iron and was nearly finished making the batter.

"Daddy always ruins the best surprises, Nick."

Still holding his son, Rick took one of his hands and put it over his heart, feigning his best look of hurt.

"Alexis!" he said dramatically, "how dare you say such things about your father."

Alexis smiled back at him, "I believe the term 'old man' would more accurate."

Rick couldn't help it, he laughed. Almost immediately, Alexis joined in and Nicholas, never one to be left out of a crowd (a Rick Castle trait, to be sure) joined in as well.

Alexis controlled herself first.

"Okay, old man. Sit down so I can serve you breakfast. We're going to the park today."

He moved over towards Alexis and placed a kiss on the side of her head. She smiled back up at him, before her attention moved to Nicholas and kissed him on the cheek.

His heart lurched in his chest.

This was his family.

Was it wrong to feel like it was broken?

* * *

><p>Both Alexis and Rick sat on a bench a couple of yards away from the playground, watching Nicholas play on the jungle gym with another group of kids.<p>

"Thanks for coming out with us today, sweetie," Rick said, his eyes drifting over towards his daughter who was watching her little brother with a smile on her face.

Alexis shrugged, "Of course. You know I love spending time with two of the most important men in my life."

Rick smiled at her, knowing that she was missing the other man in her life, her boyfriend of nearly 2 years, Jackson, who was away on a business trip more than ever. Nick helped her think of him a little less.

"He loves you so much, Alexis."

Alexis smiled, unable to control it, "Well, I love him, too. Even if he is young enough to be _my _son."

Rick choked on air for a moment and Alexis laughed.

"Kidding, Dad. Don't worry. There are no grandbabies in your future right now."

He straightened up in his seat. "Good," he said, his voice gruff, "I'm not old enough for that yet."

The two sat in silence for another moment smiling before Alexis cleared her throat. She hesitated for a moment and Rick immediately stiffened beside her, knowing what was coming.

"So…" she started, clearly not wanting to have this conversation, "tomorrow."

That's all she had to say. Rick knew exactly what tomorrow was.

He nodded

"Tomorrow."

Alexis continued.

"Grams is coming back tonight. We were thinking we could have a sleepover and then take him out tomorrow. Take him somewhere fun like the zoo, or that new Children's museum that just opened up…"

At first, Rick wanted to say no. Of all of the days Rick wanted (and needed) to be around his son, it was tomorrow.

But he saw Alexis's point.

The first anniversary of Kate's death was probably not the best time to be around him. And Nicholas still didn't understand what had actually happened. Rick would tell him. One day. But tomorrow probably wouldn't be the best day to do it.

And he knew that Kate would want it this way. She wouldn't want her death to do to Nicholas what it did to her when she lost her mother. She wouldn't want the day of her death to be a day on the calendar you had to look out for so you would lock yourself up in your apartment and drown yourself in a bottle of pain and tears.

She'd want to be remembered, not mourned.

"I think that's a great idea, Alexis."

Alexis looked at him, surprised. She had obviously expected more of a fight.

"She wouldn't want him to be sad," Rick said, giving a reason behind his decision.

Alexis's eyes said more than her mouth ever could.

_But what about you?_

"Lexi!"

The two of them quickly looked over and found Nicholas standing by the swings.

When Nicholas saw that he had their attention, he called out to his older sister again, a big smile on his face.

"Come swing with me, Lexi!"

Alexis smiled at Nicholas before turning towards her dad.

"Go," he whispered, a teasing smile on his face, "I'm too old for that now."

Alexis gave her father a small smile, squeezing the hand that was resting on his leg before hopping up and running over and helping Nicholas onto a swing, helping him propel himself into the air.

It was only a moment before he felt the all too familiar presence at his side.

"You raise good kids, Rick," he heard Kate say.

Rick couldn't look away from the scene in front of him. He quickly pulled out his phone and took a quick picture, the camera quality on the new iPhone nearly rivaling that of his own digital camera at home.

"I got lucky," he said after saving the picture on his phone and emailing it to his computer at home. "They're both extraordinary."

He could hear the smirk in her voice.

"I thought you only called me that, Mr. Castle. What? Am I no longer extraordinary to you?"

He looked to his side, her green eyes looking up at him with mirth.

"You'll always be extraordinary, Mrs. Castle," he said, his eyes smiling, "It's just with a mother like you, how could they turn out any different?"

She shook her head, "I wasn't Alexis's mother, Rick."

"You're the closest thing she ever had."

Kate looked back out at the scene in front of her. Nicholas had begun swinging on his own and Alexis had moved to sit on the swing next to him.

"She didn't need me. She was already grown by the time I showed up. She turned out the way she is because of you."

Rick shook his head, "I take no credit. I don't know how she turned out as amazing as she did with me raising her."

Kate dropped her head on Rick's shoulder.

"It's because you're amazing," she whispered.

Rick raised an eyebrow, "Getting sappy on me here, Mrs. Castle?"

He felt her shrug.

"Maybe it's just the writer in me."

Rick smiled.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Rick turned towards her.

"Mother and Alexis are going to take him out for a day of fun tomorrow."

Kate nodded.

"Good," she said. He thought she was finished, but she spoke up again, "you should go with them."

He shook his head.

"I have somewhere else I have to be."

Kate sighed, "Rick…"

"No, no, no," he said, shaking his head, "these are plans I can't break."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and glared at him.

He gave her a sad smile in return, "I already bought you flowers."

* * *

><p><em>Give Me a Sign<em>, by Breaking Benjamin

* * *

><p>(to everyone who left a review last chapter,<br>I sincerely thank you.  
>It's just with a story like this I'm a little self conscious about the reception<br>I hope you all stick around to read Chapter 6.)


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

><p>As he stood there, dressed in one of his best suits, a large bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could find in his hand, Rick found himself at a loss of what to do.<p>

He had been back here before. In fact, he came back nearly every week. Sometimes only for a few minutes, to press a gentle kiss against the stone lying in front of him, other times for hours on end.

Why did this time feel so different?

He had gotten up this morning at his usual time and quickly moved into the kitchen to brew himself a cup of coffee. He drank it half of it black before his hands started shaking so much that he couldn't even touch the mug without having the liquid inside vibrate with his hands. He dumped it down the sink and moved back through the loft, quickly moving into the bathroom and turning his shower on as hot as it could go.

Rick took his time washing himself, making sure that he scrubbed all of the dead skin cells off his chest and arms until his skin was red underneath the steady stream of scalding water. He ran his fingers through his hair, making sure there were no absolutely no knots and his hands could slide through it easily.

By the time he was finished, the water was starting to turn cold.

As he stepped out of the shower he immediately walked over towards the sink. Reaching out, he wiped his hands across the mirror, getting rid of a big enough space of condensation so he could see himself in the mirror. He brushed his teeth (even flossed), making sure that every bit of coffee was gone before he pulled out his razor and shaving cream from under the sink, and shaved the two days' worth of scruff off his chin and neck, paying special attention to make sure that he got every hair.

When he had done that to his satisfaction, he moved out of the bathroom, pulling on a pair of underwear and a pair of socks and moved over towards his closet, drying his hair with the towel that had been wrapped around his waist. He grabbed a plain, white, button up shirt and put it on, buttoning all of the buttons while looking for one of his black suits. Finding a Versace one that fit his standard, he slowly put on his pants, cinching a belt around his waist. He grabbed the jacket and a black tie from his tie rack, and moved back out towards his dresser. Standing in front of the mirror, he styled his hair, making sure there was not a single hair out of place before sliding the tie under his collar and knotting it, taking extra care to make sure it was straight. He put on his watch and his wedding ring, seeing that it was just after 11 and shrugged on his jacket. Deciding he looked good enough, he walked out of his bedroom, grabbing his keys and his wallet off the table beside the door, locking the door behind him before making his way downstairs.

He walked to the florist where he had ordered his bouquet from, where he had ordered every bouquet from for the last 7 years. Rick pointedly ignored the look of pity he received from Dimitris, the Old Greek man who owned the store had given him when he walked in, placing 80 dollars on the table despite the man's assertions that these flowers were on the house. Rick had thanked him as he always did, told him that they were beautiful, and walked out without waiting for change.

From the flower shop he had caught a cab, once again ignoring the look of pity that the cabbie threw him when he told him his destination, and eventually ended up at the cemetery.

Where he still didn't know what to do.

Taking a deep breath, he kneeled down onto the ground and placed the flowers into the upturned vase on top of the stone. He took the extra time to make sure that the pure white lilies were facing the right direction, the orange and purple tulips blending in with the green stems of the baby's breath, the bright red roses with the few yellow ones thrown in creating a stark contrast.

He let his fingers drift down from the vase of flowers onto the cool marble of the stone that marked her gravesite. His fingers traced her name like they had done so many times before.

_Katherine Castle_.

His fingers moved onward to the inscription he had placed there.

The writer in him had wanted to make her tombstone something everyone would remember. He wanted to make it something that would stand out, something that would prove just how special she had been to everyone who stopped and read it.

The husband in him knew that wasn't what she would have wanted.

So he compromised.

_A devoted mother, dedicated detective, & adoring daughter.  
>An extraordinary wife, &amp; steadfast friend.<br>A flame snuffed out too quickly.  
>A book over far too soon. <em>

Rick's eyes lingered over the words he had written as his hand drifted down towards the dates inscribed on his stone. His fingertips touched the last date carved there.

_One year_. She had been gone for one year.

Not caring about his suit, Rick shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her tombstone. He lifted his fingers up to his lips before bringing them back down to the stone in front of him, letting his fingers rest there as he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

* * *

><p>When Rick finally made it home, he felt exhausted. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa before walking into the kitchen. He quickly grabbed a glass from the cupboard and got himself a glass of water. After taking a few sips, though, Rick quickly realized he needed something stronger.<p>

Rick put the glass in the sink, knowing he would probably come back and use it later, and then walked towards his office. He walked into his office, immediately heading towards the cabinet that held all of his fine liquor from his mother and poured himself a glass of scotch, the best stuff he had, and knocked it back, relishing in the fire that burned its way down the back of his throat, despite the fact that it was only going on two in the afternoon. He quickly refilled his tumbler and wandered over towards one of the many bookshelves lining his walls.

This was his bookshelf that was filled with his favorites. The top row had all of the classics: _The Catcher in the Rye, 1984, The Hobbit, Frankenstein_, etc… A few rows down he had his favorites from his poker buddies, the best of Cannell, Patterson, Lehane, and Connelly, the reminders why every book he wrote had to be his best one yet. And then, a few shelves under that, all the books he had ever written, in chronological order.

He reached out his left hand and let his fingers linger over his name on the spines of his books. He ran his fingers down the row, thinking about how there would never be another one of these to join the twenty-six of them that were currently there. Just as he was about to pull away, he froze, noticing something for the first time.

The hands on his watch weren't moving.

He quickly placed his glass down on the bookshelf, and brought his wrist up towards his face.

The watch said "11:46", the second-hand frozen at 27 seconds.

The battery was dead.

And suddenly, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He quickly backed away from the bookshelf, throwing his hand out away from him as if that would make the problem just go away, gasping for the air that just wouldn't make its way into his lungs. He yanked the tie off of his neck in hopes to stop the overwhelming feeling of suffocation. Ripping his shirt cuffs open, he furiously pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, trying to cool himself off. He stumbled into his room, he ran towards the mirror, intent on taking off the watch and putting it back into the dish, but his hands were shaking so terribly. He bit his lips, choking down a deep breath, his fingers fumbling over the clasp of his watch, but he couldn't get it off.

Why wouldn't the dead watch come off?

It was like it was stuck to him, taunting him that it was dead.

Just like she is.

Kate. Dead. She's gone. She's gone and she's never coming back. The watch was dead. A piece of her. She was fading. She was leaving him.

Rick smacked his hand down on the dresser in front of him, making the mirror shake before him, as if that would somehow get that stupid watch to come off his wrist. But it didn't work.

So he did it again.

Rick slammed his knuckles into the wood of his dresser over and over again. He vaguely noticed that he was bleeding, but he couldn't stop.

Not when he was losing her again.

No. She couldn't leave him. Not again. Not now.

No, he needed her. She wouldn't do that to him… she couldn't…

Rick pushed himself away from the dresser and launched himself towards the bathroom, feeling his stomach churning at the thought. He swung open the door but miscalculated his footing, his shoe catching the side of the door jamb, sending him falling into the bathroom. He had managed to twist his body before he hit the ground. He slid across the tiles of his bathroom, until he finally slammed into the porcelain tub behind him, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.

And then everything stopped.

He leaned his head back against the tub, fighting to get his breathing under control, closing his eyes for a few minutes as he did so.

Rick didn't have to open his eyes to know she was there.

Kate moved silently around the bathroom, Rick still slumped against the tub behind him, his knuckles still bleeding, the blood trailing down his arm to the creases of his elbow. She stepped gingerly around Rick and walked over towards the linens closet. Grabbing a washcloth, she moved swiftly towards the sink, waiting for the water to heat up slightly before wetting the towel. After shutting off the water and squeezing out some of the excess water from the washcloth, she moved around so she was standing right in front of him.

Leaning down, Kate put a gentle hand on Castle's knees, pushing down on them. His legs succumbed to her touch and unfurled from his chest, aligning themselves parallel to the floor. His hands, one bruised and bloody, fell into his lap. He stared blankly at his fingers.

Kate took a deep breath and eased herself slowly down, as if she was trying not to startle him. Kneeling before him, Kate straddled his thighs, keeping herself from actually putting any weight on his legs. With her free hand, she wrapped her long fingers around his thick wrist, gently tugging his arm towards him. Twisting his arm slightly, she wiped the warm towel over the back of his knuckles, removing all traces of the blood that was there before. She looked up from the task at hand and saw that he had averted his gaze from his lap to the tile at his side, hiding his eyes from her.

Undeterred, Kate continued with her task. Cradling his knuckles in the palm of her hand, she wiped the small towel along his forearm, leaving droplets of water on his skin where the blood from his knuckles had once been. When he was cleaned up to her satisfaction she placed the towel on the floor next to her knees.

Rick didn't have to look at her to know what was on his face. There was no eye roll, no glare telling him that he was an idiot for doing this to himself. No, the only thing that was present on his Detective's face was compassion and understanding, a combination that made him sick to his stomach, because he wasn't even looking at her and yet he could _feel_ it. He didn't want her to see him like this.

He finally looked up when he heard Kate take a small, shallow breath, so quiet that if the room hadn't been silent, he wouldn't have heard it at all.

The sight in front of him broke his heart.

Kate was crying.

Kate, the woman who Nikki Heat was based off of, who stood in front of dirty bombs with him and threatened bank robbers that were going to kill him, his wife, the mother of his child, was crying.

He made a move to reach out and wipe the tears from her cheeks, but she shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Rick."

He reached out to her, not thinking about anything other than his need to touch her in any way he could, but she grasped his wrist in her hand and pushed it away.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with pain, "I can't do this anymore, Kate."

She shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks, "Yes, you can. You have, too."

He swallowed hard, "I miss you so much."

She let out an unsteady breath, "You have to let me go, Rick."

He bit his lip, shaking his head vehemently, "I can't do that, Kate."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't!" he said, biting his lip to try to control his emotions, "I already lost you… Please… _please,_" he pleaded, his voice almost childlike, "Don't make me do it again."

"Rick…"

"Please, Kate…" he whispered, "Please don't go –"

Without thinking, Rick reached his hand up to wipe her tears away, hating the fact that he had done this. He had made her cry. All because he couldn't control himself.

He could make this better. He knew he could. He could make her stop crying. He was always the only one who could make her smile when she was upset. He would apologize, tell her that he's sorry he's being so selfish, that he would do anything she asked him to do. Rick's fingers brushed the wet spot right underneath her eyes.

And just like that she was gone.

Rick sat back as the vision of his wife faded before him and he bit his lip to bite back a scream of pain.

"No!" he yelled, his voice cracking, "No! Kate! Come back! Please, come back… Kate… please…"

He trailed off, his voice getting caught in his throat. Rick looked down at his knuckles with bleary eyes, still bruised and bleeding like they had been a few minutes ago when he had first sank down to the floor.

She wasn't there. She hadn't been there for a year. It was over. She was dead and she wasn't ever coming back. He couldn't keep her here anymore.

He was alone.

So very, very alone.

Because of that, Rick lifted his bloody hands up and covered his face.

Rick hadn't cried when he found out Kate was dead. He knew that he needed to be strong for his family and his friends. He needed to be the one who would keep it all together. Rick bit his lip, but it couldn't stop the strangled sob that clawed its way out of his throat and past his lips.

And then, right there on the bathroom floor in his empty loft, Rick Castle shattered.

* * *

><p><em>Mayday<em>, by The Icarus Account

* * *

><p>(are you still reading?<br>I'm sorry.  
>I told you it was the worst.)<p> 


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

><p>When Rick opened his eyes, it took him a moment to figure out where he was. His vision came into focus under the harsh, artificial, light in his bathroom, the door still open between where he was currently sitting and his bedroom. He shifted slightly, a sharp pain in his lower back. Then he looked around.<p>

Everything came flooding back to him pretty quickly.

He was still sitting upright against the tub, dressed in his dress pants and his button up, the tie knotted loosely around his neck. His left shoe had an atrocious looking scuff on it, the laces lose as if they had finally come undone just as he had, sick of being wound so tightly. His head was throbbing and it hurt to open his eyes all the way, the ache at the base of his skull only increasing as he found he couldn't relax his shoulders completely.

Rick suddenly registered that his knuckles were throbbing. He quickly looked down at his left hand and saw that his hand and the spots on his wrist around his watch had been cleaned and bandaged. Moving up his arm, he saw that his forearm had been cleaned to, but the white fabric of his sleeve that had bunched up at his elbow was dotted with a bright red line.

His brow furrowed, knowing that he hadn't cleaned himself up.

Rick swallowed, his mouth feeling like it was filled with sand. He stood up, quickly regretting it as his vision blurred again, the world spinning dangerously in front of him. He stumbled into the sink. Leaning against it, Rick lifted his non-bruised hand up to his face to cover his eyes until the vertigo subsided, feeling the tears that had caked onto his face earlier in the day.

What time was it anyway?

Acting out of habit, Rick glanced down at his left wrist.

He shuddered at the frozen time.

Taking a deep breath he moved out of his bathroom and out towards the rest of his loft.

He needed to find some Advil or Ibuprofen or something. Anything to make the throbbing in his skull that had now moved into the space between his eyes go away.

His steps were slow as he made his way through his office. He shuffled his feet along the hardwood of the living room. Leaning against the sofa momentarily, he looked over towards the grandfather clock on the other side of the room, squinting, trying to read the time but failing miserably.

"It's just after 11, darling," he heard from the bar, "this horrible day is nearly over."

Rick quickly looked over in the direction of the voice, locking eyes with his mother who was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of wine.

Rick opened his mouth to ask where Nicholas and Alexis were, but Martha beat him to it.

"Jim called while we were on our way home. Offered to take Nicholas for the night and said that Alexis was always welcome to stay as well. We weren't sure when you were going to be back, and we think that Jim just needed someone there to make sure he didn't… slip up. I dropped the two of them off before I came over here.

"I let myself in when I knocked and you didn't come. Figured you were still out," she gestured towards the stove, the abandoned pots sitting on the range, "thought that I'd make you something to eat. One of the bigger pots… slipped out of my hands. Water went everywhere so I went to your bathroom to get a bath towel to clean it up and…"

Martha trailed off, her brow furrowing for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"I saw you lying on the floor. There was blood… everywhere. So much of it…"

Martha paused again.

"God Richard, I thought you had kil-" Martha lifted her fist up to her mouth, her thumb pressed firmly against her lips.

He moved over towards Martha as quickly as he could. Standing in front of her, he pulled her hand away from her mouth and gripped it tightly in his own. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just… lost it."

Her expression in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He felt lightheaded as he came to the realization, dropping into the stool next to Martha unblinkingly.

Everyone knew this was going to happen. That's why they offered to take Nicholas out. That's why Jim had taken Alexis and Nicholas for the night. It's why Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie hadn't mentioned her unless he brought her up first. It's why no one had called that night to check up on him. It's why the only person sitting in the loft right now was his mother. Who knows how long she had been waiting for him?

He immediately knew the answer: one year. She had been waiting for him for one year. In fact, he realized quickly, everyone had.

They've been waiting for him to lose it since the moment he that cop had shown up at his door and told him she was gone. Everyone had been waiting for him to break down. His friends and family had been watching him slowly fall apart in front of their eyes while he tried to hold himself together for them. He hadn't been fooling anybody.

Only himself.

Martha swallowed, letting go of his hand and putting it in her lap. "When I realized where all the blood had come from…" she left out the "_and made sure you were still breathing"_, but Rick heard it anyway, "…I cleaned you up. You hardly even stirred… I figured I'd let you sleep it out. You'd wake up when you were ready."

Rick placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over, trying to control his emotions. His knuckles were killing him, but he wanted nothing more than to slam them into the counter again.

He'd been so stupid.

How could he possibly believe that everyone thought he was being strong? God, they had all seen it. His mother had, Jim had, his friends, his children, hell, even his agent had. And he made them walk on eggshells around him instead of dealing with their own grief in a healthy manner because they just knew he couldn't handle it.

Martha sat next to him silently, knowing that he would speak when he was ready.

That seemed to be how everyone treated him lately. He would do what he needed to do… when he was ready. He would say what he needed to say… when he was ready.

What if he wasn't ever "ready"?

Rick felt like an animal trapped in a cage. Everyone spoke to him in hushed tones, only touched him with the tips of their fingers, refused to look him directly in the eye, afraid that he would startle, lash out, hurting himself and scaring those around him. They were afraid that he would go spiraling downward, losing it all before he crashed into the ground and broke into a million little pieces.

But that's exactly what he had done, wasn't it?

He took a deep breath before starting.

"She's everywhere," he said quietly, "She's on the bed looking at me as I get ready every morning. She's humming in the bathroom when I try to fall asleep. She's sitting on my desk when I would try to write. She's there sitting at the table while I cook. She's in every single cup of coffee I drink. She's holding my hand as I walk down the street. She's in my sheets… she's on the bookshelf… she's there every time I look in Nicholas's eyes…"

His fingers twitched on his leg, unable to stay still.

"It's almost like…" he continued, "she never left. Until I try to touch her…" Rick shrugged his shoulders slightly, his brow furrowing, "… and then she's gone."

Martha was silent for a moment before leaned forward and grabbed one Rick's hand, her eyes shining, "Richard… I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you need to let her go."

Immediately Rick started shaking his head, "No," he said, his voice rough, "I can't."

"Yes," Martha said, her voice gentle, "you can."

He just kept shaking his head. No, no he couldn't do that.

"Oh Richard," she murmured, her eyes tender, "letting go doesn't mean you love her any less." Martha reached out, swiping her thumb underneath Rick's eyes. He hadn't realized he had started crying again. "She wouldn't want you to feel like this."

The loft was silent for a moment before he looked back up, locking watery eyes with Martha, who looked like as though she was going to lose it at any moment. At his silence, Martha kept speaking, her steady hand still on Rick's cheek.

"No one doubts that you loved her, Richard... that you _still _love her," she said, a sad smile on her face. Her voice dropped low, as if a softer tone would make her next words easier to hear, "but she's not here anymore. You're just living with her ghost now."

Rick felt himself start to tremble, feeling the breakdown coming on again.

"I miss her so much," he choked out, before once again being overcome with tears.

Before he could blink, he found himself encased in his mother's tight embrace, her cheek on the top of his head.

"Oh darling," she murmured, her own voice think with emotion, "I know, darling. I know."

As he cried against his mother's shoulder for the first time since he was a little boy, some of her whispered words slipped through his ears and made their way into his mind, bouncing around his head while he tried to make sense of how it was possible to love someone so much that it physically hurt.

_It's okay._

_It's okay._

_We miss her, too._

_It's okay._

* * *

><p><em>Fix<em> You, by Coldplay

* * *

><p>(If you've made it this far without giving up on me, I thank you.<br>It gets better now. I promise.)


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

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><p>Rick woke up the next morning to the sound of giggling outside his bedroom door. Lifting his head off his pillow, he looked at the alarm clock on the side of his bed, checking the time.<p>

It was nearly 10:30.

Well that hadn't happened in a while.

He heard his bedroom door creak open and watched as a little head of shaggy hair ducked inside.

Nicholas however was still unaware that Rick was awake. Rick watched as Nick quietly shut the door behind him before dropping swiftly onto his knees, crawling slowly over towards the bed where Rick was currently laying down. Rick lost sight of him once he got towards the edge of the bed. But Nicholas stayed crouched down low. Rich heard him mumbling to himself as he tried to stay hidden from view.

His son was apparently on a covert ops mission. Nothing could stop him from completing the task at hand.

Rick smiled.

Rick heard the floorboards by the bed start to creak, the sheets surrounding him pulling tighter against him as Nick used them to pull himself up off the ground. Nicholas's head slowly became more visible over the edge of the bed, his eyes still closed shut, his breathing even.

When he was finally standing upright, his knees locked and feet planted firmly on the ground, Nick took a deep breath and opened his eyes quickly, the way he would if he had been hit with a bucket of cold water.

When Nick saw that Rick's eyes were open, and staring at him no less, he let out a loud gasp, his hand flying to cover his heart (his hand on the right side of his chest) and staggered backwards away from the bed.

Rick couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed loudly, despite the fact that his throat felt like someone had scratched his esophagus with a rusty knife. Nick was definitely his father's son.

"Daddy!" Nicholas whined, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Rick stifled his laughter, looking at his son with a smile.

"Sorry, little man. I just woke up."

Nick pouted, and Rick had to bite back another chuckle. Looking at his son's put out expression, Rick shifted so he was leaning up against his headboard and then patted the space next him.

"Come on up."

Nick didn't need to be told twice. Before Rick even had a chance to move and help him get up, Nick had his hands braced against the edge of the bed, using all of his strength as he pulled himself up on top of the mattress. When he finally pulled himself up, he clambered over towards Rick, immediately curling up against his side. Rick tugged him closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"So, my little secret agent," Rick said softly, "what was your mission this morning?"

Nick huffed in distaste.

"I can't tell you that Daddy," Nick said, his tone suggesting that it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Then it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

Rick shook his head, silently shaking with laughter, before tugging Nick a little tighter against his side, running his hand gently up and down his arms.

They sat in silence for a moment, Rick trying to make the headache that was undoubtedly still there because of everything that had happened the night before go away by focusing on his son's breathing.

A few minutes later, Nicholas broke the silence with a horrified gasp.

"Daddy," Nicholas's said, his face crumpling in concern, "what happened to your hand?"

Rick looked down at his covered knuckles, the bruises peeking out under what the bandage and medical tape his mother had put on it the night before couldn't cover.

Immediately, Rick's mind went into overdrive, trying to think of an excuse that would appease the 5 year old without scaring him. Telling his son that Daddy had a mental breakdown and went completely blind with fury and overwhelming sadness and helplessness the night before because he was finally confronted with the reality that his mother was gone and wasn't ever coming back didn't seem like the right thing to say.

But, Rick realized almost as quickly, he couldn't lie to him.

Rick took a deep breath.

"Last night I got a little upset…" He paused, "I did some things that I shouldn't have done and got hurt because of it."

Nick nodded before running his tiny fingers lightly over the bandage.

"Are you okay now?"

Rick exhaled unsteadily, "Yeah, bud. I'm fine."

"Does it hurt?"

Rick nodded, "A little bit. But it'll be better before you know it."

Nick bobbed his head before letting the subject drop.

Rick straightened up, his back cracking before he exhaled loudly.

"So, Nick, do we have any plans for today?"

Nick shook his head. "Nope, Grandpa brought me and Lexi home a little while ago. Grams made us lunch and then told me to come get you."

He had no doubt that Martha was telling Alexis the basics of what happened the night before, knowing that she respected her son's need to be strong too much to give her all of the dirty details.

"Then how about this," Rick said, his tone hinting at something exciting. Nicholas looked at him expectantly. "I have a few errands I need to run today. Why don't you come with me?"

* * *

><p>Rick had been going to the same hole-in-the-wall watchmaker ever since he bought his first watch right after his first book had been published and he got his first paycheck.<p>

He had searched every department store in New York City, looking at Rolexes and Omegas but nothing he saw was worth the amount of money he was going to spend on a watch. None of the watches screamed "Richard Castle" to him. They were either too much, or not nearly enough.

He had stopped into the old watch shop on a whim after hitting another dead end at yet another department store. The old man behind the counter had introduced himself as soon as Rick had approached the counter.

They had immediately struck up a friendship. The old Jewish man and his wife, 4 months pregnant at the time, had emigrated to the U.S. from Poland as soon as Hitler had come into power in Germany. His wife had claimed that she immediately knew that nothing good was going to come out of it, and they were better off trying to start over new than try to keep living in Europe.

They came to New York and with the little money they had bought the store and started a watch-making industry. Their son was born a few months later, and the old man sold his first watch only a few weeks after that.

Everything single watch in the store had been made by hand. The bands, the watch face, the hands and the circuitry inside of them had all been created by a steady hand, and a seemingly unending stream of patience. Moldings were all done in the back of the store and his wife did all of the engravings by hand.

Rick had been shocked. The store was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of watches. Pocket watches on long chains sat under glass countertops next to the women's watches, each different yet beautiful in its own way.

When the older gentleman, who said his name was Bernard, told Rick he could make him a custom watch, Rick had jumped on the opportunity. It had cost him a small fortune, but it was worth it. It was exactly what he wanted.

He had bought Alexis a watch here after she graduated from University.

This is where Rick had taken Kate's watch to get it repaired after the explosion in her apartment.

He had brought her there once when they had passed it on the street after they had gotten engaged, and she had indulged him because he just looked so excited to show her the place. She tried to hide it, but she was just as amazed as he had been the first time he had walked into the shop.

He introduced her to Bernard and Edmund, his son, who he was preparing to take over the business because arthritis had started to form in the joints in his knuckles.

This is where Kate had gotten him the watch that she had given him on their wedding day.

Bernard had retired from the watch-making business since the last time he had been in there, but he still sat proudly behind the counter, laughing with his son who liked like he was polishing the front of a pocket watch. When they heard the bell ring out, signaling that someone had entered the shop, they both looked up to see Rick and Nicholas walking hand in hand into the store, Nicholas looking around with the same sense of awe that both of his parents had had upon entering the store for the first time so many years ago.

"Richard!" Bernard called out from behind the counter, his European accent still thick even after all of the years he had spent in New York, "Welcome back, son!"

Rick smiled at the old man, greeting him in kind, "Hello Bernard, long time no see."

Both of the men behind the counter stood up, walking to meet the two of them, both of them shaking Rick's hand.

Bernard looked down over the counter, looking at Nicholas with a smile on his face, who was watching the scene unfold in front of him with rapt attention.

"And who is this Richard?"

Rick smiled before reaching down and picking up Nicholas, who had suddenly gone shy on him, "Bernard, Edmund, this is my son, Nicholas."

The two of them were both aware of what had happened to Kate. It had been all over the papers and they had sent flowers to the funeral home where the services were being held. Both Bernard and Edmund knew that Kate and Rick had had a son together, but this was the first time they had met him.

He looked so much like her.

Bernard smiled at the young boy, reaching out a hand and patting Nick's cheek.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Nicholas. We're happy to know you."

Nicholas smiled before pressing his face against his father's neck, mumbling a "nice to meet you, too."

The three men smiled before Edmund spoke up.

"So, is there something you need, Rick?"

Rick nodded, placing Nicholas back on the ground and reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out his broken watch, placing it in the hands of the younger gentleman.

"I'm pretty sure the battery died," Rick said quietly, his fingers tracing the glass on the watch face.

Both Bernard and Edmund immediately recognized the watch. They had made it together. The pearl stone face set against the shining platinum of the metal surrounding it, the hands and number skinny and silver with a touch of black on the sides to make it pop out against the ivory of the face. And of course, the inscription on the back that she had insisted upon with a smile, tearing up when she said the four words to them nearly 6 years earlier.

_Thank you for waiting._

If they noticed the blood on the edges, they didn't show it.

Edmund looked up at Rick, a small smile on his face.

"Give us an hour and we'll fix it and shine it up nice and pretty. It'll be as good as new the next time you see it."

Rick nodded his head in thanks, deeply grateful that they understood. He grabbed Nicholas's hand and led him back out of the store.

Rick was about to open his mouth and ask Nicholas if he was in the mood for ice cream when he saw it.

He looked across the street and saw the window display in the leather goods store and immediately froze, though his thoughts were racing through his mind at a mile a minute.

He saw it all unfolding before his eyes, his plan taking shape and spinning around so fast that it knocked him breathless.

It was brilliant. It was perfect.

He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it sooner.

He looked down at his son, knowing how much he would appreciate it. Maybe not so much now, but in the future? It would be indispensable. For both of them.

Nick, noticing that something was off, looked up at Rick with his head cocked to the side, his green eyes that looked so much like Kate's looking up at him.

Rick's smile grew.

"Come on," he said, still smiling, "let's go."

With that, he led Nicholas to the nearest crosswalk, waiting for the green man to tell him it was safe to walk and looking both ways before crossing. When the light changed, the two Castle's walked across the street, and Rick and Nicholas walked into the store.

* * *

><p><em>Worth Setting Free<em>, by The Mess

* * *

><p>(we're getting to the home stretch)<p>

(I never said "happy"  
>I said "hopeful".)<p> 


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

><p>Rick didn't know who thought it would be a good idea to make a 200 page journal, but whoever it was he felt personally obligated to send them a thank you note.<p>

When he saw the collection of leather bound journals in the window of the leather goods shop, he had thanked whatever all-powerful being that was out there somewhere for the employee of the store who thought the best possible object to put in the window display were the journals. The idea came to him in a flash, the most obvious thing in the world. This was the answer to everything he was so afraid of.

He had walked into the store, Nicholas in tow, and searched through the stacks of journals made from imported Italian leather that were sitting on the table while Nicholas wandered around the collection of leather jackets. He settled on a light brown journal, the same color as her hair, bound like a blank novel that he could've gotten from his publisher if he hadn't quit. He bought it without even looking at the cost, took Nicholas out for ice cream, got his watch back, and then went home, excited to start working on his project.

Rick had spent nearly all of his free time for the next three weeks scanning pictures that he had in already printed form into his computer and printing them out, not wasting any time. He scoured through pages and pages of photo albums and folders on his computer, finding the perfect ones throughout all the time he had known her.

He had invested in a good set of high quality pens, knowing that he was going to need as many as possible for the amount he was going to write.

He's written novels about her before, written stories about her that have been published for the entire world to see. So many people have read and became invested in the trials and tribulations of Nikki Heat that had been inspired by the intelligent, beautiful, and sassy detective that had managed to capture his heart with nearly no effort at all.

But this was different. Yes, this was very different indeed, because while he had written stories about her before, this was actually _her_ story. These pages that he was filling up, the words flowing from his fingertips in a way that hadn't happened since before she died, were real. Those pages were history, _their _history, the chain of events that led them to exactly where they were now.

This was the truth.

This was the most honest thing he had ever written.

This would be his greatest masterpiece.

It had to be, right? This book would have a permanent place on his bookshelf for the rest of their lives. This was her life. Well, the last 10 years of her life anyway. The portion of her life that he was lucky enough to be able to call himself a part of. A huge part of if he was being honest.

This was the story about the mother that Nick had never really gotten a chance to know. The story of how Kate had marched herself into his book party with a badge and short hair and an attitude that said "don't mess with me" and how he had immediately known that she was someone special.

This is the story about how the writer fell irrevocably in love with his muse, and how his muse miraculously fell just as hard.

This was Nick's history. Without their past, Nick's future wouldn't exist. There was so much that needed to be told, stories and memories that Rick and Kate had dreamed of telling their children together once they were able to understand it. There was the resolution of his Grandmother's murder, the lies and the fights that nearly tore them apart, the forgiveness that brought them back together again, the tears that inevitably came. There were late night burgers and shakes at Remy's, hours spent sitting at the murder board, searching for answers until he forced her to go home, and of course the infallible love and respect that had gone unrecognized for so long that turned co-workers into friends, friends into best friends, best friends into partners, and partners into lovers that led to a relationship, than to an engagement, a marriage, a new life formed together and culminating in a new life created together.

This was too important to mess up. He scribbled down notes and stories on scrap pieces of paper that were sitting on his desk, making sure that he got out what he needed to and that his words did his memories justice. Typing out their history, the greatest story of love, bravery, and sacrifice he had been so blessed to be a part of felt cheap. No, their story needed handwritten words. Words written in the same handwriting that had once been scratched up on the murder board by her desk and scrawled on the side of paper coffee cups and love notes written upon post-it notes and left on any surface he could get it to stick to.

And then there was Kate.

In between the stories of them were moments that were just her. Facts about her and things she had done: what she ordered every time they got Chinese food for dinner; that she preferred black ball point pens to blue ball point pens; how she took her coffee the same way every morning unless it was Christmas-time when she allowed him to slip a little dash of cinnamon in it; the way her brow puckered when she was frustrated; that her eyes were green but had little flecks of gold and brown around her pupils; the way she bit her lip when she was thinking too hard; that the first present she ever accepted from him without complaining he didn't have to was the leather jacket he had bought her in Italy while he was on a book tour in Europe for one of the Nikki Heat books; that she cried every time she watched _The Lion King _and Mufasa dies; that she smelled like cherries; all of that was in there and more. Any time he thought of something. Trivial things that no longer seemed trivial were scribbled into margins, or starred as notes on the middle of the page. Sometimes they interrupted the memories of events in the past that, looking back, seemed crucial in how the future was formed.

He didn't want to forget anything.

He couldn't afford to.

And then there were pictures. Oh god, the pictures. He had sorted through hundreds upon hundreds of pictures, looking for the ones he knew were in there somewhere that haunted him: The picture he had taken on his phone one day while they were there late at the precinct one day, the sunlight funneling through the hallway, bouncing off of her and highlighting her profile beautifully while she was staring at the murder board; The picture of the two of them sitting at the Old Haunt, Kate with her head thrown back and Rick staring at her as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world because… well, she was; the picture that Ryan had managed to take when he had proposed to her in the precinct because he had been carrying around the ring for weeks and just couldn't wait any longer, catching the exact moment when Rick had dropped down on one knee and Kate realized what was going on, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes shining with happiness; the black and white picture of her on their wedding day that took his breath away every single time he looked at it; the collection of 37 pictures he had coerced her into taking when she was pregnant, one picture every week from the moment the found out that Nicholas was really in there.

He pasted the pictures throughout the journal, writing captions that explained what was going on in the picture, or why he thought it deserved to be in there, or the phrase "just because" which had been written more than anything else in the book.

And now, three weeks after he bought it, the journal was filled. Four hundred pages total, two hundred pages front and back covered with photographs and memories of the woman who had changed his life in so many ways, gave him so many things that this book, even filled to its full capacity, was not enough to do her justice and thank her.

Rick leaned back in his desk chair, looking at the journal that was opened to the last page and reading over what he had scrawled on the back cover as an afterthought.

_This is the Kate I remember. The woman who changed my life and the lives of so many others by just being Kate. I hope I have done her justice._

Taking a deep breath, he gingerly grasped the back cover between his thumb and index finger, flipping the cover over slowly until it was touching the other pages, closing the book as he exhaled unsteadily. He let his fingers linger over the leather of the back cover before finally dragging his eyes away from it, leaning his head back against his chair.

And then he let the tears fall from his eyes.

This had also happened quite a few times over the past three weeks. Going through old pictures of her had made him realize just how much he missed her. He missed the way she smiled and the way she looked when she glared at him. The way she threw her head back in laughter and tried to cover her smiles at the ridiculous things he said at the precinct. Sorting through all of the memories that they had shared was an all too painful reminder that they wouldn't get a chance to share any more. They would never sit at Remy's together and eat burgers and shakes after a long case. They would never sit side by side on her desk, staring at the murder board, trying to make something pop. They would never tease Ryan and Esposito again or make bets about trivial things. He would never get to make her coffee again, or hold her hand as they were walking down the street, or steal kisses in the precinct elevator.

His memories were the only thing he had now.

Quite a few pages in that book were marked by his tears.

But he quickly found he didn't care.

This was his therapy, his catharsis.

Finally coming to terms with the fact that she was gone.

It was painful.

It was too much.

But it was necessary.

And now there was only one thing left to do.

* * *

><p>He emerged from his office a few moments later after getting control of his emotions to find Nicholas sitting in the living room exactly where he had left him, asleep on the sofa.<p>

Earlier that morning, the two of them had sat down together to watch Finding Nemo, and Nicholas had quickly faded off to sleep. He must not have slept well the night before.

The television screen had long since gone blue, and Rick quickly looked at his watch. Seeing that it was only 1 in the afternoon, he knew that he had time to do what he needed to do.

Walking over to the couch, Rick crouched down beside it, his hand reaching out and running his fingers through his son's hair.

Nick stirred at his father's touch, stretching languidly before opening his eyes, blinking quickly to make Rick come into focus.

"Hey buddy," Rick whispered, "how was your nap?"

Nick reached up and rubbed his fists against his eyes.

"Good," he mumbled.

Rick smiled at his son for a moment.

"Hey Nick?" Rick said, his voice still soft.

"Mhm?" Nick grumbled.

Rick paused momentarily before taking the leap.

"Do you want to come see Mommy with me?"

* * *

><p><em>In the Mourning<em>, by Paramore

* * *

><p>(if you listen to none of the other songs I have listed at the ends of these chapters<br>please listen to this one. And The Haunting by Anberlin. And the one listed at the end of the next chapter.  
>This story came into life because of them.)<p>

(Only one more chapter to go.)


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

><p>"Is this where Mommy is, Daddy?"<p>

The two of them were sitting in front of Kate's grave, Rick sitting cross-legged on the hard ground, Nicholas sitting in his lap, the book bound in plain brown leather pressed tightly against his chest, a small bouquet of flowers clutched in his other hand.

Rick had walked hand in hand with his son into the flower shop, where Dimitris behind the counter greeted them with a large smile. Rick told him with a smile in return that they were going to need some of the best flowers he had. The old man could tell that this was for something special, what with the boy nearly jumping up and down by his father's feet. Dimtris immediately let them back behind the counter, telling the young boy that he could pick out whatever he wanted, providing guidance and tips whenever the boy looked overwhelmed.

They had ended up with a small bundle of white, yellow, and orange Gerbera daisies, dotted with some greens. It was simple and understated, but beautiful just the same.

As the old man brought the flowers back up towards the front counter, preparing to wrap them up, he had asked Nicholas who the pretty lady was that was going to be getting such a lovely bunch of flowers.

Nicholas looked up at the old man, and with a broad smile proclaimed that the flowers were for his Mommy.

Rick didn't think it was possible, but the old man's eyes softened even more.

"Well then," the old man had said, "I guess I need to use my really pretty ribbon that I only reserve for really special people."

Nicholas beamed.

The old man wrapped up the flowers and walked around the front of the counter, squatting down and handing Nicholas the small bouquet. Nicholas immediately dug his head into the petals, inhaling deeply, before he looked up at the man with a shy smile.

"Thank you, sir."

Dimitris reached out to pat Nick's cheek.

"Anytime you need flowers," he said sincerely, his Greek accent strong, "you come to me. I'll get you whatever you need."

Rick had paid the old man despite his protests, giving him a genuine smile and thanking him for everything, before leaving the store hand in hand with his son once again.

They had caught a cab, and ended up here.

Rick took a deep breath and nodded, "Yes it is, bud." Reaching out he pulled the book out from against Nick's chest, laying it gently on the ground beside them. He gestured to the vase on the top of the headstone, which had been emptied since his flowers he had brought for the one year anniversary of her death had wilted, "Why don't you give your Mommy her flowers?"

Nick nodded and leaned forward off of Rick's lap, using both hands to place the flowers gingerly into the vase, making sure the prettiest ones were at the front before leaning back again.

"They look beautiful," Rick said as Nick settled back against his chest.

"Mommy was beautiful… wasn't she, Daddy?"

He chuckled lightly, "Your mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, Nick." Rick reached around his son and chucked his cheek teasingly, "It's where you got your good looks from."

Nick giggled slightly at Rick's touch, sinking even further into him.

Reaching out a hand, Rick performed his ritual, tracing the engravings on the stone with his fingertips before lifting his fingers to lips, bringing them back down against her name etched into the marble.

"Did you just give Mommy a kiss?" Nick said curiously, his head cocked to the side.

Rick hummed his affirmation.

"Can I give Mommy a kiss?"

Rick smiled, "Of course you can."

He watched as his son once again lifted himself off of his lap, placing his lips to his palm and then placing it flat against the marble stone. Nick stayed there for a minute, staring at his mother's name carved against the stone, before leaning back into his father's chest once again. Rick tightened his arms around him, and they sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"Do you miss her?" Nick asked quietly as if he was afraid of the reaction such a question might receive.

Rick couldn't control the way his heart clenched in his chest. He doubted he would ever be able to.

Rick swallowed, pressing his lips on the crown of Nick's head, "Yeah, Nick. I do. Every day."

He sat there for a moment, just breathing in his son.

Nick whispered, "I miss her, too."

Rick pressed his lips harder against Nick's hair, his arms tightening around him, completely surrounding his son.

"I know you do, bud. It's okay to miss her."

Another comfortable silence enveloped the two of them, both father and son lost in the memories they had of the woman who was so important to them in such different ways.

After a few minutes, Rick looked up from the top of Nick's head and looked back towards the stone in front of him.

There she was, sitting directly in front of him, just behind the vase of flowers.

It was the first time he had seen her since his breakdown three weeks ago. Looking through all the old pictures of happy memories had been hard without her there with him, but he had managed to get through it.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging in relief at having her so close again.

Her face softened, and she smiled at him.

Her smile confirmed what he had always been so afraid of.

This was the last time he'd ever see her.

He felt the familiar panic settle into the bottom of his stomach at the thought of never seeing her again, but it surprised him when the panic quickly subsided into something that felt an awful lot like acceptance. After a quick assessment of himself, he found that he was no longer afraid.

So he smiled back.

Kate's smile grew until she couldn't possibly smile any bigger, a sound that sounded like a half-sob, half-laugh bursting past her lips.

He understood now.

She didn't want him to be afraid. She wanted him to be safe and healthy and happy even if she couldn't be there with him.

She wanted him to be living with her memory, not her ghost.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible to even his own ears.

"I love you, too," she whispered back just as softly. Her eyes glanced down quickly to their son, before she tacked onto the end, "both of you. More than anything in the entire world."

Releasing one of his arms from around Nick's torso, he brought his fingers slowly to his lips, kissing them softly before blowing her a kiss.

She caught it in her hands and pressed it against her own mouth, before blowing him a kiss back.

He mimed catching it, and pressed it gently to his lips before glancing down at their son and pressing his fingers softly against his cheek. He looked back up to where she had been sitting, his eyes shining.

She was gone.

Nick looked up at his father's touch, his eyes questioning what he had just missed.

Rick took a deep breath and smiled at the boy in his arms.

"Did Mommy and I ever tell you the story of how we met?"

Nick shook his head.

Rick gasped, "We didn't? Well that's just unacceptable…" He moved his hand out, grabbing her book that was lying on the ground, and flipping it open to the first page, laying it across Nicholas's knees, "Mommy didn't like me very much the first time we met…"

One day, when the wounds still weren't so fresh, he'd sit down with Jim and document Kate's life before he had entered the picture. He'd shut down The Old Haunt for a night and take Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie out for unlimited drinks, and they'd sit down and share memories that all of them had with the Senior Detective who was much more like a sister than a boss. He'd tell Nicholas how his mother was one of the most hard-working people he had ever met, that she was the youngest woman in the history of the NYPD to make Detective, and she had one of the highest clearance rates in the city even before Rick had come along.

Nicholas wouldn't grow up without knowing his mother.

He would grow up knowing that even if she wasn't there, his mother loved him, and she was someone worth remembering.

He couldn't promise that it would be easy. In fact, he was certain that it wouldn't be. He was sure there would be days where the pain of living without her became so unbearable that it hurt to breathe. He couldn't promise that he wouldn't cry the day he could no longer smell cherries in his sheets. He wasn't sure there would ever come a day when he didn't think about her, that there would ever be a day when he didn't miss her. He couldn't be sure that he would be able to be the mother and father that he was going to need him to be, but he was going to try his hardest to give his family everything he possibly could.

He smiled, finally understanding what Kate had been trying to tell him all along.

They would be okay.

* * *

><p><em>def<em>_icit omne quod nasciture_  
><em>autem amor vincit omnia. <em>

* * *

><p><em>I Can Almost See You<em>, by Hammock

* * *

><p>(that Latin translation is probably wrong. But I tried.)<p>

(So that's the end.  
>No twist, no coming back from the dead.<br>Just... life: Realizing that there are things worth living for even when your world comes crashing down,  
>Sadness can be beautiful if you know what to do with it,<br>& that it's possible to live with memories rather than ghosts.  
>I hope you're not disappointed.<br>[if you are, then I'm sorry.]  
>I hope you feel a sense of closure.<br>But this was always the end.  
>Thank you for sticking with me and this story.<br>I know it wasn't easy.  
>But...<br>I hope it was worth it.)


End file.
